


All My Friends Are Watching

by blurrycopaface



Category: Electronic Dance Music RPF
Genre: Anal Fingering, Drunk Sex, Established Relationship, Finger Sucking, Fluff and Smut, French Speaking, Hand & Finger Kink, Inspired by Music, M/M, Second Sky Festival, Semi-Public Sex, Teasing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-08
Updated: 2020-01-08
Packaged: 2021-02-26 05:49:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,677
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21898432
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blurrycopaface/pseuds/blurrycopaface
Summary: I can hear them talking.
Relationships: Madeon | Hugo Leclercq/Porter Robinson
Comments: 5
Kudos: 13





	All My Friends Are Watching

**Author's Note:**

> finally something i can contribute to this ship

The lights hurt Hugo’s retinas, so he squeezes his eyes shut but still sees bursts of white and blue behind the blackness of his closed lids.

“Is that good?” Someone was asking him and his eyes shoot back open to see a team member standing beside him, motioning to the projection screen.

“Yes, yes, that’s perfect.”

There were a multitude of colors displayed there, flashing across the screen in beat to whatever song would be playing.

“When is Porter going to be here?” Hugo asks again for the second or third time since arriving at the Festival.

“Mm, dunno I think he was helping vendors check in.” The team mate shrugged in a disregarding manner and clicks his tongue. “Gonna go check the amps.”

Hugo nods, adjusting his baseball cap. 

“M’okay. Thank you.”

Making his way back behind the tables and speakers, Hugo crouches down to inspect his own equipment. He runs a hand over the tangled snakes of wires.

Laptop was charged, everything seemed to be working well.

But a huff of anxious air escapes his lungs, he wraps his own arms around his knees as he slouches down farther onto the ground.

He hadn’t seen Porter in over a year, they had Skyped and messaged each other in intervals, yes, but Hugo missed the feeling of his presence, his soft voice and gentle touch.

He was a little more than eager to see his best friend again.

Hugo doesn’t know how many more times he can test his stuff that night before getting impatient.

“Hugo, you need any food or water, man?”

And he shakes his head agitatedly, responding maybe a little too shortly,

“I’m fine.”

He decides to go look around the venue, to settle his nerves and uncloud his thoughts.

\--

After about a half an hour, Hugo had walked around the entire perimeter of Second Sky, trying to busy himself by small talking festival goers and other persons, tactfully questioning if anyone had seen or heard from Porter yet.

Surely he wouldn’t be avoiding Hugo?

He couldn’t help the fact he became intent on seeing the face of every person who was tall and wore a beanie. Just to be sure.

But to no avail.

A young girl taps on his shoulder and asks for a photograph. He happily accepts, turning to two more people who want pictures after their attention had been caught.

The sea of occupations began to flood like a tidal wave, people crashing into him and pushing him around like a bou out at sea. 

Everyone at once started trying to talk to Hugo, once they realized who he was. 

Murmurs of, “Madeon! That’s Madeon!” Rose like a chorus and all Hugo could focus on was _getting out._

He reaches a calm, far away from the thicket of the vendors where some outhouses were and he takes a few cold breaths in.

Someone from the festival crew hands him some undisclosed alcohol and he gulps it like water.

“Thanks.” Hugo says, looking up to see who had given him libation. “Sure!“ She smiles and nods.

“By the way, _he_ was looking for you.”

Hugo turns to where she was pointing and feels his heart skip multiple beats.

Porter was exactly how Hugo rememberers him, beautiful broad shoulders, slender arms and almond shaped eyes that held a multitude of worlds and ideas in them. He hadn’t changed except his smiling face was now framed by long stark-white colored locks.

Hugo fell in love with him all over again.

Porter was standing up on top of a platform a few feet high and Hugo awkwardly stumbles up the stairway to meet him.

They embrace, and Hugo is suffocated into Porter’s orange and white bomber jacket. It smelled new, plasticky and also fruity. He inhales and tries to remember this moment.

“Missed you.” Is the whisper against his neck, warm and sweet like honey melting into hot tea.

Hugo smiles and squeezes him to his chest as best as he can. “I missed you _so_ much.” They draw away to look at the other more properly. Hugo feels lost in the other’s gaze.

“I love what you did to your hair, it’s pretty.” Hugo says as he pinches a bleached strand between his fingers and twirls it.

Porter’s face crinkles at the corners of his lips in a huge smile and he giggles.

Hugo wanted more than anything to lean upward and press his mouth to Porter’s but he rememberers they are in public and plus he fears maybe Porter wouldn’t _want_ him like that anymore, so he slips away, biting his lip on the way back to being a few feet away from his friend.

Porter was approached by some important looking people in jackets, so Hugo leaves them be. But he was still keeping an eye on his where a bouts, glancing over to see Porter only looking back to him sideways as he talked to someone, but smiled to Hugo. Hugo just smiled back. He thinks he sees Porter wink at him.

\--

The sets began and Hugo played through his performance like a breeze. Everything went perfectly and he felt satisfactorily accomplished, he glances back under the brim of his hat to see Porter swaying and dancing to his music. He smiles wildly and feels the tremors of the bass line through his feet and fingers.

Porter plays after him and Hugo is in the same position he was just moments before, feet tapping and head bouncing as he watched his friend playing his music. His hair flowed in the wind as he thrashed about behind the mixing stage. He was ethereal. Hugo wants nothing more than to touch him again.

Someone offers him another drink and he takes it without thinking twice, lost in the beauty of Porter’s mesmerizing energy.

The songs end as the next person takes the stage and Porter is striding back over behind the curtains, beelining for Hugo. He high fives him, fingers entangling into one another’s for a brief moment before retracting. “How was it?” Porter asks with a smile.

“ _Parfait_.” Hugo responds in French.

A man approaches Porter, Hugo recognizes him as being one of the organizers of the festival, damn Porter has so much on his plate, being the creator of the entire thing and all, so Hugo watches with a bitten lip as Porter chats and nods his head.

Hugo sips from his plastic cup. It was starting to go flat and he flusteredly tosses it in the trash and leans against a speaker, glancing back to the stage to watch/not watch the current performance.

The sky was very clear today, perfect weather really in Oakland California. He hums and wishes Porter and him could walk through the city together.

His mind wanders and Hugo closes his eyes, blocking out the sound and stimulation of his environment.

He missed the days of spending time on Porter’s farm back home, they would walk through golden and white cotton fields of Chapel Hill, North Carolina, holding hands and listening to the trees whistle and the birds sing.

Hugo spent an entire summer there, sharing a bed with his best friend, as they created music together. Waking up to Porter on his desktop, hair a then short brown tousled mess, working on something else with absolute fervor. 

Hugo missed that so much. The simplicity. The intimacy. But they weren’t kids anymore.

Hugo sighs, turning his attention backstage and sees Porter looking his way again.

Their eyes linger on each other for a while, and Porter seems to understand the unspoken words behind his eyes. The plea, the desire.

“Um--would you-would you excuse us?” Porter is saying, gesturing to himself and Hugo and he turns to walk away from the bustle of crew members.

Hugo follows briskly into the much less noisy hallway, excited at the promise of being away, of being alone finally.

Not a moment is wasted as Porter presses Hugo up against the carpeted wall, lips to his in a flash.

Oh how Hugo missed this.

Hands tangled in his angel wing hair, fingers slide up the underside of Porter’s beanie, almost taking it off his head. Hugo wants to feel every inch of him. His nails scratch Porter’s scalp gently and request further closeness with a tug.

“Please- _please_ Porter.”

Between smirking lips are the words, “Please, what?”

Hugo is desperate, he licks his lips, trying to find the proper vocation for his burning desire.

“Please. _Want you_. Now.”

Porter makes a low affirming groan, kissing him soft and slow.

Hugo feels his head spin even though he was still in Porter's arms, so relieved to _finally_ be kissing this enthralling human being that he loved with his whole heart.

Hugo lifts a leg up to hook it around Porter’s own, squeezing him even closer, wanting his chest pressed against his so tightly that he felt his heart beat in his ear drums.

But they soon both remember that they are not alone.

A person was rounding the corner of the hall and the two men fly apart from each other so fast that Hugo has the breath pushed out of him as he slams his own body rather harshly against the wall. Porter gives him a grimace as if to say. “ _Sorry.”_

“Hey dogs!” Hugo knew that voice, and looked up to see Sonny, a huge smile on his face as he came walking over to the two of them. He claps a hand on Porter’s shoulder and shakes him lovingly. “You did so fantastic man! This whole festi was fucking awesome! Thanks for having me as a special guest!”

He turns to Hugo, cheeks flushed with excitement, hair messy and wet. “You too Hugo! Wow!” He brings them into a tight hug, pushing his face between both of their necks. “I love the both of you guys.” Hugo laughs, patting him on the back, he appreciates Sonny’s warmness, even if it be intoxicated, but what he _really_ wanted was some privacy right about now.

“Hey, you guys ready for the after party?” Sonny asks, glancing between the two with big, excited eyes.

They didn’t really have much of a choice, did they?

And if anything, they could try and slip away unseen from the crowd.

—

Sonny was driving, Porter and Hugo seated in the back of his Tesla, tough black leather seats that were heated and sleek interior gloss with blinking lights that made Hugo sleepy. The two are as close together as they could possibly get without being in the other’s lap. Sonny didn’t question the fact the two men wanted to sit next to each other, he knew them long enough to know they had a _very_ close relationship.

Hugo watches the city smear by through the window, it had gotten darker much more quickly that he had expected. Sonny had the front windows rolled down and it smelled like pretzels and city smog, the wind made all three of their hair dance. 

Hugo turns to look to Porter, he was looking out the side of his window, face relaxed and calm. Hugo walks his fingers slowly across the his own lap to intertwine with his. Porter looks to him, flashing him a sweet loving smile. They squeeze their hands tightly together, Porter rubbing his thumb across Hugo’s knuckles delicately. He knew, he could _feel_ that Porter wanted to kiss him just as badly as Hugo wanted him to. Hugo wished Sonny would drive just a little bit faster.

The party space didn’t have the best opportunities to be alone. It was held in the back yard of some large mansion owned by some big person that Hugo didn't really know. There was a pool illuminated by glowy blue lights and the fake seeming grass crunched under all of their feet.

Sonny bounded right over to the bar, ordering drinks for all three of them. Porter and Hugo dip their heads in thanks and sip as they watch him make his way into a crowd of people, gesturing excitedly and smiling.

A group of beautiful young women came over to the two men and one dark haired girl with thick eyeliner approached Porter.

Hugo watches them interact, fire flickering behind his temples as he scowls at her.

She was laughing and flipping her hair animatedly and he hears Porter say, “Yeah, I did pretty much single handedly put together Second Sky...”

Hugo is rolling his eyes and scoffing, which no one can hear over the noise of the party anyway, but he turns to walk over to Sonny, hoping to distract himself momentarily.

Porter only follows in his lead, leaning into Hugo to ask, “What’s wrong?”

Hugo grunts again, turning to look away. “Just wish we had some space. _Together_ , you know.”

“I know.” A hand brushes against Hugo’s arm and he shudders, looking up to be met with that same soft smile of his. He could never stay angry at somebody who felt like sunshine and the golden hills of North Carolina.

He watches as Sonny is switching on a pioneer turntable set and Hugo thinks, “ _God, again? How does this guy have so much enthusiasm_?” And to his surprise also sees Porter leave his side and walk up to it, setting down his drink to start dancing his fingers across the turntables.

Hugo watches them play together, and thinks they are very cute, really. He gulps down another drink someone orders for him, but mostly at this point he is just watching Porter’s _fingers_ and the way they so expertly rub themselves across the surface of the equipment, how fast he switches up nobs and adjusts a slider, curling around and stretching back out and--

Hugo swallows and imagines those fingers in his hair, pulling and tangling, in his mouth, on his tongue, in his jeans, around him, squeezing.

Hugo groans, shifting his weight to one foot awkwardly, crunching the empty plastic cup in his hand. The party space around him is shivering in his vision, and everything feels warm and tight and urgent and hot, and all Hugo really wanted right now was Porter against him again. It had been _so long_ since their last time.

Porter always had time to do things like this: party and play music and talk to girls, but it was much more precious that they spent actual time together. Hugo was starting to feel ignored, and he expressed this by looking rather iceily in Porter’s direction.

The target of his gaze raises his cup to his lips and makes eyes contact as he does so.

He seems to understand because he chokes slightly on the liquid, coughing, then leans over to say something to Sonny.

Hugo is looking around the yard for _any_ sort of secrecy they could use to their advantage, but all he could think of was inside of the enormous illuminated house.

Taking short strides, Porter walks determinedly over towards Hugo and pulls on his shirt sleeve, guiding him away past the pool without a word.

The door to the house was locked, but there was a small side entry that led to a guest bathroom. 

“Porter- _Porter_! I think this is the only bathroom here, we can’t use this!”

Porter ignores him, Hugo watching as he wraps his fingers, _oh those fingers,_ around his own small wrist and pulls him inside decidedly.

Why did Porter have to choose _this_ of all places, the entire room was windows! Hugo wishes he had the simple privilege to find an actual bedroom for them. At least here there was a pillar the two men, when positioned correctly, could somewhat hide behind. Hugo hopes at least. He wasn't too keen on being watched.

Their lips crash together again in a cacophony of nerves and excitement, but Hugo pushes at Porter’s shoulders, gently forcing him away. 

“Porter, please! We are around other people!” He glances around the room, at all the huge glass windows just to check that _yep_ , they are definitely in the line of sight of someone seeing any sort of suspiciously gay activity.

“Hugo, it’s fine, no one is going to walk in right now, so let’s use our time, m’kay?” 

Hugo could barely disagree, this was, after all, simply all he had been wanting the entirety of the day.

The thrum of the music outside made the windows shake slightly, but Hugo was embarrassingly aware of how loud his own whimpers and gasps were in the confined space.

Porter bites at his lip and Hugo inhales sharply.

“Porter, I--”

His sentence is cut short as they hear the door shudder open suddenly behind the pillar. Hugo nearly loses a lung as he is winded for the second time that day, pushing Porter away firmly with a big shove that surprises even himself with his own strength.

The person, dressed in all black, turns the corner and walks by them, not looking in their direction, Hugo sighs in relief as he watches them enter the bathroom.

Porter grimaces, whispering, “ _God,_ you really pushed me just then.” He is gripping at his arm and frowning. “Fuck, I’m sorry, we just have to be careful, okay?” Porter wasn’t too good at that sometimes, being careful, or even thinking things through. Hugo always had to be the one to look out for that.

“Hugo, really, it’s okay I--” Porter leans closer to him, beginning to speak.

The toilet is flushing and they hear the door click open as the person leaves, both heads snap back to the door. As the person walks back towards towards them, they look up and make eye contact, Hugo realizing it’s Sonny. He feels himself flush slightly. Sonny nods a simple acknowledgment to the both of them, rubbing his own hands against his skinny jeans as he walks towards the exit.

“You boys have fun, ‘kay?” He says and smiles brightly before winking and closing the door behind him.

Hugo turns to Porter again, blushing a furious fuchsia. “You think he knows?”

Porter grins stupidly.

“Oh, _he knows_.”

Hugo is gasping again, throwing his head back, smacking the base of his skull on the concrete pillar Porter had him pressed up against.

The pain was a dull throb, a rhythm to match his heart in white consuming pulses. 

“Love your-“ Wet hot kisses down his neck that drown Hugo in a flurry of emotions. “Love your hair.” Porter continues raspily, Hugo tries to follow his compliments, even though he wanted less talking and more touching. “It’s so long. And so pretty.”

Porter is tugging it out of the messy bun Hugo had put it into early this morning, but Hugo could care less, moaning a breathy, “Thank you.”

Porter’s teeth are at his ear, leaving little red crescents in the tissue. Hugo’s hands are all over Porter, digging his finger tips and blunt nails into his skin through his shirt.

He’s groaning, eyes fluttering open and closed, hips bucking with hope for friction. He wants more. So much more.

A sudden clatter of something and the sound of loud laughter jolts Hugo and Porter away from their boozy wonderland once again. 

“Should we stop?” Hugo asks with wide doe eyes. “We are right by the party still, if someone comes to go to the restroom again we are fucked.”

Porter grunts impatiently, rolling his almond eyes. 

“Oh please, _you’re_ the only one who’s gonna be fucked.”

Hugo whines like a dog.

Open mouthed gasps against the other’s mouth, hot breathing against their necks. There is a palm to the front of Hugo’s baby blue jeans and he relishes in the contact. Porter curls his fingers around his bulge, rubbing and gripping. Hugo feels his heart pound in his throat.

Porter's other hand is in his hair, raking and combing and pulling his head back deliciously.

He’s trying not to be a mess but it was so fucking hard with Porter’s fingers undoing his zipper and slipping down the inside of his boxers.

“You’re dripping.” Porter whispers cooly, fingers curling around him. Hugo just lets out a breathy whimper.

There is a hand against his cheek, rubbing gently at his beard, then a thumb pressed to his lips and Hugo lets out a terribly slutty moan, parting his lips to suck Porter’s finger into his mouth and against his tongue.

Porter hums, watching him in a drunken stupor.

“So pretty. So, so pretty Hugo.”

Spit dribbles down his chin as he slobbers sloppily around his thumb, he feels like an embarrassing mess. Porter is cupping the side of his jaw with the rest of his hand, holding him securely. The both of them groan, Hugo blinking drunkenly as he watches Porter's eyes fixate on his mouth, then flash up to lock with his own eyes. The wet sucking sounds were kind of gross and Hugo doesn't like how fucking loud they sounded inside of this building, but Porter starts a rhythm around him and presses his index and pointer finger to his mouth now and Hugo forgets just about everything. 

He licks at Porter's finger pads, opens his legs for him and parts his mouth expectantly, but Porter leans in to kiss his slick mouth first, giggling a little against him. "You're so cute." He is saying and brushes fingers against Hugo's beard again, so soft and soothing and safe.

The hand is back at his lips and Hugo kisses at his palm, his wrist, his finger tips, lips pressing hungrily to every inch of skin that Porter offers to him.

He licks at his wrist, teeth closing gently against the tender skin there. Porter hisses, slipping his fingers into Hugo's mouth again. He takes them down past his knuckles, Hugo's eyes roll back as he whimpers pathetically.

Porter is watching with utter lustful awe, one hand still in Hugo's jeans as he tugs at his cock gently. He was already so close, legs trembling in obvious proof.

The fingers were leaving his mouth and so was the hand around his cock and Hugo whines sadly, pouting like a child that had a toy taken away.

“Why—?” He begins, but Porter slips the hand that was in his mouth down his pants and Hugo realizes what he is doing.

He feels his hand slip lower, brushing at his entrance, already slick with sweat and precum, Hugo keens obscenely as Porter presses a slender finger into him, rolling his hips hard, sweat gathering at his temples. His hair had come out of it’s bun by now and he lost his hat to the ground at one point, but all he was focused on was Porter’s fingers inside of him, curling and pressing and stretching.

Hugo opens his eyes again, looking into Porter’s face, which was concentrated and demanding and oh so beautiful, illuminated by the pool lights outside, his hair glowing almost ghostly. Hugo decides he wants to kiss him again but some movement near them distract his gaze and he looks to see some people behind a bush right outside of the window they were closest to.

Porter seems to notice too and his movements hiccup.

“Merde! _Merde!_ ” Hugo starts to hiss, pushing at Porter's hand urgently, wildly glancing around to the group of persons who were _right_ outside of the window now.

A girl with blonde hair leans right against their window, her friends are laughing with her and swirling the drinks in their cups. God it would be so easy for them to just _glance over_ and see the two men in their obvious flummoxed sexual encounter.

“Porter-Porter, there are people watching. _Please_.”

But Hugo knew it was no use, they both were too far gone. And Hugo really didn’t want him to stop anyway.

He feels fingers curl inside him, head lolling back as he he bites his own lip hard to try and silence a moan that was probably way too loud. Porter presses a palm to his mouth to muffle the sound, they both glance over to the group again.

Hugo’s heart is pounding, he doesn’t remember ever feeling this terrified, or excited in a very long time. 

It was thrilling, really, to be fucked in a semi public space like this, the opportunity of someone discovering them on the cusp of possibility. Hugo normally has much more dignity than this but doesn’t really care anymore, all he can feel is the blinding pleasure of Porter’s hands, and mouth and sweet voice, like a warm wave crashing over him again and again.

He shudders, whimpering into the hand pressed considerately against his lips. His hips move on their own accord, grinding down desperately into the attention. He would come soon, by the way Porter’s well practiced fingers pressed into him so nicely.

“Please, _please_ Porter.” He mumbles through the hand.

Porter bites at his neck. “What? Want me to stop?”

That was the absolute last thing Hugo wanted him to do. And Porter knew it.

“ _Please.”_ He chokes out a little more desperately this time.

Warm breath like sunshine against his ear. “Mmm? Wanna try again?”

Hugo sobs quietly into the flesh of Porter's palm.

“S-s'il vous plaît?”

“ _That’s_ it.”

Porter thrusts his arm against Hugo’s front, rubbing his cock up against his own stomach maybe on accident, but that's what does it, fingers jabbing into _just_ the right spot inside of him. Hugo wants to be as loud as he can, like when it’s just the two of them, laying underneath the trees of North Carolina, where no one can hear them except the fireflies and clouds. He wants to sing and cry and wail Porter's name, but he can't.

Instead he chokes on words, a mess of French and English cussing spilling from his lips as his hips buck spasmodically into Porter’s touch.

Hugo comes right into his boxers and against Porter's forearm.

God this had to be the most ridiculous situation he had ever been in.

He feels Porter pull himself out, helps to button his pants back up. The room is pulsing much more than it had been before and Hugo has a headache now.

The front of his blue jeans were a darker shade and he frowns, palming the dampness there. "Nom de Dieu!" He exclaims exacerbately. These were some of his favorite jeans too.

Porter just grins to him stupidly, pressing a kiss to his cheek which was still a little wet with saliva.

Hugo pulls his hair back up into a bun with shaky hands, tying it up with the extra tie he had around his wrist, because God knows where the fuck his other one went.

He glances out the window, to see that the group of party goers had left. Hugo wonders if they had gotten a free show at all. He really hopes not.

Porter rubs a hand against his arm, squeezes gently.

“That was--” Hugo tries to gather breath into his lungs, nearly having a panic attack and then orgasming really took it out of you. His chest hurts. “That was the _worst idea_ you have ever had.”

There is a hand against his neck and brushing his chin again.

"Really? The worst? I kind of doubt that."

Porter is so stupidly cute, eyes twinkling like stars.

Hugo just rolls his eyes dramatically. He admits internally that this probably wasn't _the worst_ idea he has ever had. But it was definitely up there on the list.

“See? Don’t you love me?”

Hugo groans, shaking his head rather weakly as he is trying to retrieve his baseball cap from the floor.

“Yes, yes I do Porter.”

Porter crouches down with him, eyes scanning the corners of the room they were in.

“Putain.” Whispers Porter and Hugo punches him firmly in the same shoulder he had been clutching earlier, smiling and shaking his head as he finally locates his hat and places it snuggly back on his head.

“I should have never taught you that word.”

Porter's laugh sounds like the wind through the trees of Chapel Hill.

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> sorry if i don't have a lot of accurate info about the two of them, i am fairly new still to the fandom.  
> btw "putain" is French for whore :) ♡


End file.
